Peace At Last
by RogueInk
Summary: Set immediately after the Angel Series finale. The "reunion" I wish we could have seen Wesley and Fred have. A short one-shot.


"You've made everyone very proud. Souls like yours are rare in these last days. It's an honour to escort you."

They walked down a never ending hallway. It seemed to continue forming in the distance ahead as they walked, doors appearing on both sides. Some with only numbers on them. Others with names: Amanda Wright, Owen Diamus. Others, places: Rome, Saskatchewan. Others, a mix of letters and numbers. He was still a little disoriented. Memories were coming back to him in bits and pieces, and not all in chronological order. As a boy battling for his fathers attention; as a man battling for control of a demon. As they walked through the hallway it slowly became more defined, began to feel familiar. The walls became a darker, richer brown, the lights on the walls a little more antiqued, the carpet pattern a little more intricate. The young man was still talking.

"You came rather unexpectedly, which is well…unheard of around here. I can't remember anyone ever saying that it's happened before. But your friend, Angel, he pulled a good one. Surprised even us. We knew he had something, but that, THAT was a bulls eye."

Wesley stopped. His mind was racing. He closed his eyes and his mind was filled with memories. Going to Sunnydale to train Buffy. Kissing Cordelia and how excruciatingly awful that was. His exile. His return to fight at Angel's side. Wolfram and Hart. Lindsay. Lilah. Holtz. Shanshu…..

Yes, there was a plan, a surprise…they all agreed to follow…what…

The young man touched his shoulder.

"Keep walking. You can sit down and process it easier once we get there."

"Where are we going?" His voice was quiet, his throat dry as though he'd been silent for years.

"A resting place. Well for now anyways, it was kind of last minute arrangement. Wasn't quite finished, but we hope it will suit you just fine." The young man smiled at him.

The Hyperion…Lorne…..Gunn…Fred…meeting her for the first time…falling in love with her…losing her to Gunn…watching her blossom… feeling her die….

"I don't….I don't understand…"

"Sorry, I'm not the answer guy. I couldn't give you an answer that you would understand anyways. You still have to adjust. Then we can talk. Ah. Here we are then."

Wesley looked around. The wall before him was the Hyperion now, He could even smell it. The young man handed him a key. "Don't ever lose this." Wesley looked at him, puzzled. "It was forged before you were sent. Now that you're back, it is returned to its owner." The key was golden, and on its head was inscribed "WWP" Wesley. Wyndham. Price. "Like I said before, because you were unexpected, there is only one door ready for this key right now. There will be more, many many more. But until you're ready, this is the only one you need."

The key was heavy in his hand. He looked up again and the young man was gone. He stood alone in the empty hallway, which now only possessed one door. On it, a single piece of masking tap with "Wesley" hastily written. The key slide easily into the lock, and with a heavy clunk, the handle turned and he pushed the door inward. The apartment was crowded. The walls were covered like giant bullentin board with letters, pictures, scraps. There were several boxes on the floor and an open one of the couch. Things from the English cottage of his youth, his college dorm room, his many apartments all fought for space. The familiarity of it was comforting, but again the rush of memories crashed in on him, and he sat on the couch with his head in his hands. He closed his eyes, but couldn't fight the hurricane of memories, images, sounds and emotions all descending upon him. He took a deep breath. And then another. And then in sudden clarity, his last moments came to him. The machete plunging into his stomach, the twisting, an explosion of power, and then…a blue haired…Illyria, yes that's right… and then the lie, Fred…she held him as he bled…"it's gonna be ok"…"It won't hurt much longer."…. The memory was almost overpowering.

Wesley stood up, as if he could leave the memory on the couch behind him. But he couldn't, it was achingly clear in his mind. Slowly he began to pace.

"And then we'll be together." He whispered aloud as she said it again in his mind.

He heard a shaky breath from behind him and he froze. His voice caught in his throat. And he heard her say,

"You'll be where I am."

He turned slowly, afraid to see her, afraid to not see her. But he turned, and there she was, in a pale yellow dress, holding a small bouquet of daisies. Smiling at him.

"Fred…" He could barely speak.

"Hi." She took a tentative step forward. And another.

But he remembered feeling like this before. Illyria had played games with him, somehow this could be a lie. She came closer and he stepped back suddenly, almost tripping on the coffee table.

"Who are you?" He accused. "Are you real? Are you an apparition?"

The pain and confusion on Fred's face was instantaneous. "Wesley -" she began.

He looked away from her, tried to shut out the sound of her voice. It could be a lie, he kept thinking, another dream…

"Don't you remember? Don't you…?It's me, Fred. They said you would remember-"

"How do I know it's really you?" He challenged. Then softly, "You're not even supposed to exist anymore…" They stared at each other for a moment. Her eyes remained soft under his piercing glare.

"Wesley, you are not at Wolfram and Hart. You are not on earth. You are not even near the mortal dimension anymore. Nobody here would have any motive to lie to you. Least of all me." Her voice was calm now. She looked down at the daisies. "They're for you. I don't really know why. 'Guess you don't get any more creative when your dead." She shrugged and looked at him, holding the daisies out to him. He reached out, as if to take them from her, but his hand touched her fingers, and he suddenly realized it was really her, she was really in front of him. The daisies fell, forgotten, to the floor. He buried his head in her neck and breathed her in, holding her tight. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, ran a hand through his hair. The reality of him, in her arms, brought tears to her eyes.

"Oh my love…" She whispered. She felt his tears wet her shoulder. His shoulders shook. "Shhh…Shhh…"

He raised his head from her shoulder and she wiped a tear away with her thumb.

"You don't need these anymore." She whispered. He smiled at her.

"You're crying too." He raised a hand to her face to wipe away her own tear. She nuzzled her face in his palm.

"Yeah, well you kind of caught us by surprise."

He pulled her face towards his and her lips met his desperately. He forgot everything. Everything around him. Forgot he was dead. It didn't matter anymore. He wasn't dead, he was more alive than he had been since she left. He just kissed her. She was here, with him. And nothing would take her from him again. He pulled his face an inch away from hers.

"I thought… I thought I would never see you again. They said your soul was destroyed…" He kissed her again, not waiting not caring what the answer was. After a moment, she gently pulled back and shook her head.

"You can't destroy a soul, Wesley. You can hide it, lose it, break it, but you can't destroy it. The only thing that was burned up by Ilyria, was that very delicate pathway that could have possibly brought me back to my body. That's all."

He let out a shaky breath and whispered, "I missed you so much."

"I know…" She kissed him. "I know…I saw you. I listened. I waited. I know how hard you fought." she paused and caught his eyes in her own, "I know how much you mourned. " She took his hand and kissed it. "There's no more fighting Wesley. There's no more death. You made it. Now you can rest."

The words sunk into him. Rest, at long last. Her voice seemed to release so much pain from him, and heal him at the same time. He had known nothing but struggle for so long. He cried into her shoulder for what might have been a long time on earth.

"Was I the only one?" he asked. "The fight - how did it end?"

"The fight is never over Wes, you know that. But we made a dent, we swung the balance in our favour for once. We thought for a moment that Gunn would be joining you, but lucky for us, we fight with Angel, which means a slayer is never far away."

"So Buffy-"

"Not just Buffy. As many slayers as she could gather in a few moments. And as many witches and warlocks as Willow could contact. And more arriving through out the fight. It wasn't a bloodless fight, but it was enough. And having Illyria," Fred seemed to have a hard time saying the name, "well, she was a great asset. I've never seen anyone's death more violently avenged. She still thinks on you. You are her only tie to Angel, and she fights with him because you did."

He was pensive for a moment, slowly running his fingers along her back, concentrating on the feel of her. "I never hated anything in my life as I did Illyria. And yet, I couldn't destroy her." He looked at her, almost expecting the hair to turn to blue before him. "I couldn't do it, even though I hated her so much. Even though I knew you were not her, or in that body. I couldn't see anything but you when I thought, a million times, how I might kill her."

"But instead, you did what no one could have done. She could have been a great threat, _should_ have been. Could have destroyed everything we worked for, but you changed that. You swayed her from that course. No one even thought it would happen. But you did it." She took his face in her hands. "You're a hero Wesley," his arms tightened around her, "hmm. My Wesley." She leaned her forehead against his. He was still trembling slightly.

"I would give it all up, would trade winning that battle, would trade tipping the scales, to have saved you that day." He swallowed hard. Memories were so clear now.

"Wesley," she whispered "It had to happen. I could never have done what Illyria did on that crucial day. The world needed her. I see that now, you will too…"

"I needed you more." he cut her off, his voice ragged. "I know it's selfish, and I don't care. If it had been me with Drogan on that bridge, instead of Angel, I would have chosen to send Illyria back. I wouldn't have thought for a moment on the cost."

Tears fell on Fred's cheeks. "But you weren't on that Bridge, you were with me. I know you wouldn't have left me, even if you had known. It happened the only way it could. And you were amazing." But in his face she could see he didn't believe her praise. He wasn't on earth, but his self-doubt was still with him. "It doesn't matter anyway now. Your fight is over Wesley, be here with me now. Peace is yours, just let the rest go."

A quite realization passed in his eyes.

"This is my heaven?" He asked quietly.

She looked around the crowded, tiny apartment. "I know it's not much. You weren't supposed to show up yet…"

He shook his head. "That's not what I meant." He looked into her eyes. "I meant you. Do I get to stay with you? Is this…my heaven?"

Tears filled Fred's eyes. "No," She whispered back, "It's mine." She kissed him and felt his regret go, felt his fear finally leave him as he tightened his arms around her. She melted against him. She too was done waiting. She could have rest, peace in him.


End file.
